


The Making of Liath Macha

by bessemerprocess



Series: War Correspondents [1]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Pundit & Broadcast Journalist RPF (US), Real News RPF, The Rachel Maddow Show RPF
Genre: F/F, Remixed, War Correspondents Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-02
Updated: 2009-07-02
Packaged: 2017-10-02 18:18:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bessemerprocess/pseuds/bessemerprocess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>War is in Oxford for a weapons deal. Nothing big, just an excuse to be in the UK. She finishes with time left over and only three dead, so she heads to the local pub.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Making of Liath Macha

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to willwrite_fortea for the beta.

War is in Oxford for a weapons deal. Nothing big, just an excuse to be in the UK. She finishes with time left over and only three dead, so she heads to the local pub.

The girl at the bar is gorgeous and fierce. Short blue hair and a leather jacket isn't what War usually goes for, but this girl is radiating something that keeps drawing her eye. So she slides up to the bar, and buys the girl a drink.

"I'm Red," War says. It's a good nickname, one she even likes.

"Rachel. Rachel Maddow," the girl says, brash and coy and hesitant all at the same time.

War takes the girl back to her hotel and fucks her into the bed. It's the best times she's had in half a century that hasn't ended with someone dying. Afterward, War realizes what a prize she's found herself.

People think of soldiers when they think of her. Decorated Generals and muddy enlisted men. Men who fight for her glory. She loves them all; she is War. There are others though, and this child will be one of them.

Originally, they were bards and poets. Learned men reporting the toll she had taken on their compatriots. Now they are war correspondents, brave men and women who broadcast her acts across the globe. They follow her foot steps, proclaim her glory and her terror, and more often then not, incite the flames of her cause.

She loves them best of all, and this girl with her short blue hair and quick smile and skilled fingers, she will be the best of them. She already has the brains for it, and War will help with the motivation.

The girl shifts in her sleep, just slightly. She's young and innocent. Things War cherishes even as she steals them away.

War breathes gently out onto that blue hair, and then leans down, kissing the girl squarely on the forehead. Mine, she thinks, and seals the girl to her cause.

The girl's eyelids flutter open from the touch, and War considers dallying longer. The girl is alluring, curled up in a sheet on this soft bed. She's late though, and guns don't transport themselves.

"Go back to sleep, little one. I'll be seeing you again soon," War says, and slips out the door.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Russian Roulette: The Thought of War Blows My Mind Mash-Up](https://archiveofourown.org/works/183616) by [twtd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twtd/pseuds/twtd)




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